


Boom, Crack

by SpideychelleCarwheelerTrash



Series: 800 Follower Event 2k19 [1]
Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Assassin - Freeform, Assassin AU, Drabble, F/M, Spideychelle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 09:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18808282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpideychelleCarwheelerTrash/pseuds/SpideychelleCarwheelerTrash
Summary: "I wish it didn't have to happen like this.""But it does."





	Boom, Crack

**Author's Note:**

> //This is part of a running follower event on my Tumblr account, @you-guys--are-losers. I just hit 800 followers, so I posted a list of AUs that I am willing to do for any fandom pairing. Each request will receive a short fic fitting the specifications, and maybe more if I enjoy writing it enough! If you are interested in submitting requests, hop on over to Tumblr.
> 
> The AU prompt for this selection was "Assassin AU", requested by @heynowitsafangirl. I hope you all enjoy!

“Come on, dude, are you blind? She’s totally into you.“ 

That was what Ned had told Peter earlier that night, over the  _crack_ of a champagne bottle, when he caught the eye of a girl across the ballroom. As an intern (and Stark’s favorite at that), Peter had been invited to come along to the charity gala taking place there that night, the one that he had spent months organizing. 

This was why Peter had ended up in the middle of the room in a rented tux, gazing into a set of dark eyes that belonged to the most beautiful girl that he had ever seen.

 She was dressed for the black-tie event, just like the rest of them, with a long, form-fitting black dress whose hem seemed to whisper across the floor as she had approached. But it did not matter that she was dressed the same as everyone else: she managed to make it look dangerous. 

That same whisper follows Peter now as they slip into the darkened hallway, hours later. There have been a few flutes of champagne, hours of whispered conversation in a dim corner of the room that are the most mysterious and tension-charged that Peter has ever spent. 

And now, in the quiet of the deserted hall, her fingers are laced with his as she pulls him after her. Peter’s heart is racing, but he isn’t going to say no. Something about her strong, slender digits wrapped around his feels right, and he wants a chance to explore every one of the strange callouses he can feel on her palm and fingers. ”

Where are we going?“ he finally manages, his breathless voice the only sound in the hallway other than the buzzing of the building’s electricity and her swishing skirt. 

For a moment, Peter thinks that her hand might tense slightly in his, but the calm in her response convinces him that he is imagining it. 

"Somewhere we won’t be found." 

The slight smirk he can see on the corner of her lips as he follows behind paired with the sensual undertone in her smooth alto is enough to send shivers down his spine.

Peter lets out a sharp breath as they turn a corner of the darkened building, which Peter knows Mr. Stark rented in its entirety for the evening. It is only then that they come upon a door. Peter has barely opened his mouth to tell her that it will be locked when the woman, Mary Jane (or so she told him), has produced a key from her black clutch. The dull master-key looks almost painfully ordinary in her perfectly-manicured fingers as she releases his hand in order to open the door. 

"How did you get that?” The thought slips from his mind to his tongue almost immediately; its quick trip to his lips is no doubt partly caused by the liberal amount of champagne they have consumed. 

Mary Jane glances back at him, raising an eyebrow. “If I tell you, that’ll ruin the mystery, won’t it?” she hums, raising an eyebrow. The door whines open, and before Peter can protest, she’s slipped inside.

There is a slight rustling of fabric– is that her dress? Her voice from within drifts towards him, and it brings a rush of warmth to Peter’s face. 

“And I know that men like a little mystery." 

Peter hesitates at the door, uncertain. There’s something off… His mind, spinning, isn’t quite sure what to make of it. "Well, I didn’t come with you because of a-any mystery,” he calls through the cracked door. “I came because of what we talked about, back there. About the way things are, and how they should be, and what we can do to change that gap." 

A moment of silence stretches between them, and for a moment Peter isn’t sure if she is going to reply. A twinge of worry pangs through Peter, and it is then that he steps into the room.

As soon as the hairs on his arms shoot up, Peter realizes his mistake.

The door swings shut behind Peter, slamming closed with a _boom_. His enhanced hearing allows Peter to hear the tumbling of a lock into place. "Shame,” drawls the smooth voice whose every word Peter has been hanging off of all night. “You’re a good guy, Peter Parker. It’s a pity someone wants you dead." 

Peter draws himself up slowly, careful not to panic. He did not tell her his last name, but he knows now that she did not need him to– she’s known it all along. Peter is careful to make sure that his motions are imperceptible as he slides his web shooters into place beneath his suit jacket. "Mary Jane-" 

"Please,” her voice, thick with some sort of dark amusement, interrupts him, “call me MJ. It’s not like you’re going to have anyone to tell this to in a few minutes… Or, more specifically, any tongue to tell them with." 

It is then that Peter revolves, slowly and surely, to face the voice that is coming from over his shoulder. MJ is standing in the back corner of the room, where an empty bag has been discarded in the back corner along with a pile of black cloth, which Peter realizes is her dress.

His eyes slowly slide up from her feet, which are now clad in dark boots with thick soles. She must have been wearing the armored motorcycle leggings that cling to her long legs beneath the dress, Peter realizes as he takes her in. The sound of moving clothing must have been MJ changing into a dark jacket. He is pretty sure that the slight puckering around her shoulders is caused by a bulletproof vest. 

But the main conversation piece of MJ’s attire is the loaded pistol that she has in each hand, both aimed at him. 

As he watches, she clicks off the safeties. “Well, that’s unfortunate,” Peter breathes, struggling to think through his slightly fuzzy head, “because I think you may have bitten off a little more than you could chew with this one.” 

MJ arches an eyebrow, and that wicked smirk returns, sharp as a blade. Something about it is enough to send Peter’s heart racing as he positions his hands to use the shooters. 

“Did I, Spider-Man?” she hums, her eyes flickering down to his wrists as her smirk widens. “I guess we’ll just have to see… Personally, I think it’s going to be that heroically sacrificial streak that does you in. But I could be wrong– There’s a first time for everything.” 

Peter swallows, tipping his head down slightly as he takes in her face in detail, tensing. “I wish it didn’t have to happen like this.” Peter doesn’t know why he says it, but as the words slip free he realizes just how much he means them. 

For a fraction of a section, a shadow flits across the steely, dangerous face that Peter is studying so intently. This time, he is sure that he isn’t imagining it. Her lips part slightly, and then MJ breathes, “But it does.” 

The shot comes as an immediate afterthought.  _Crack_. 


End file.
